


A Silver Pendant to Remember Me

by HeroMaggie



Series: Anders Needs Hugs [7]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 18:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1754387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroMaggie/pseuds/HeroMaggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eavan, the Warden Commander, and Anders find themselves falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Silver Pendant to Remember Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is almost like a prologue for a story I am working on involving my Hawke and Anders. His relationship with Eavan is referenced heavily in the story - so I thought I'd post this before I start edits on the first chapters. 
> 
> This fits into the Anders Needs Hugs story series as the start to my Hawke/Anders story which is themed around Comforting Anders.

Eavan leaned back against the battlement wall; knees tucked up under her chin and held tightly against her body by her arms. Wind swept over the wall to swirl leaves and dirt around her feet, but she didn’t care. It was nearing night, that breathless moment at dusk when the sun settles on the horizon and colors the sky with impossible reds, pinks and golds. Eyes on the sky, she tried to focus on the swirling colors painting the clouds, tried to stay in the here and now instead of the past. She was able to hold the moment for the span of several heartbeats, a minor record so far, before the snaking black tendrils of memory slid into her thoughts. Shuddering, she tucked her knees closer to her chest in an effort to block out the pictures slipping through her mind.

***

The table was filled with a ridiculous amount of food. Or it would have been ridiculous if it hadn’t been the dining table at Vigil’s Keep for the Wardens. Factor in the current group of Wardens sitting around the table and the amount of food seemed rather paltry. Anders was leaning back in his chair, eyes dancing over his companions. Nathanial, that crotchety bastard, was sweet talking Velanna again. Oghren, the drunken bastard, was attempting to sweet talk Sigrun. Both women were responding with varying degrees of icy contempt, though he figured Velanna’s contempt was more for show than anything else. He also figured Sigrun’s contempt was more an effort to be polite and not simply employ violent beat-down on the drunken Oghren. The one person not at the table was the Commander, and that worried him a bit.

Anders wasn’t sure he wanted to prod those feelings. She was his Commander, the leader of the Ferelden Wardens, and the King’s lady-love. More importantly, she was somebody he valued and respected. Still, he worried. He thought back to the last time he’d seen her. She had been ensconced in the library, ubiquitous pile of papers in front of her and the Seneschal behind her. He had popped in to chat for a moment and had noted her pale skin, bruised eyes, and general marks of strain and stress. With the Seneschal standing at attention, however, he hadn’t been able to tease her out of work for some relaxation. Instead, he could only watch with worry as she went over more problems with the Arling, her gaze resting on him for a moment. The gaze had clearly implied she wished she could simply knife the Seneschal and flee. He knew she wouldn’t but still…she had looked stressed to the breaking point and now she wasn’t at the dining table.

A quick look around showed that the rest of the Wardens were enmeshed in conversation. He pushed back his chair, nodding at Nathaniel when the man glanced over. “I’m fine. You all keep eating.” Nathaniel cut a glance at the Commander’s empty chair and then back to Anders. Anders’ smile was brief as he nodded to Nathaniel who simply returned the smile with a slight scowl. Ah right, thought Anders, still having problems with the forgive and forget thing. Anders ignored the scowl, opting to simply leave rather than start another argument.

It took him a bit to find her. She hadn’t been at her usual haunts, the ones she hid in when she had work and didn't want to be bothered. There was really only one other place in the entire Keep she would be, the battlement. For hours she would stand up there, eyes on the horizon, longing in every line of her body. Rain, sun, wind – no matter the weather, when he couldn’t find her in the keep it was because she was out there trying to forget. Sure enough, Anders found her curled in a ball, back against the wall, eyes screwed shut, and rocking slightly. He let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding, relief at having found her unharmed, and went to her.

Eavan heard the soft shush of leather boots on the stone and lifted her head. Eyes reddened from tears, she met Anders gaze with a slight flinch. “Ah, Anders. Is everything alright?” She scrubbed at her face, unfolding herself to stand.

“I believe the Keep is fine, but I wouldn’t say everything is. You seem to not be.” He tucked his hands behind his back and leaned against the wall, suppressing the overwhelming urge to hold her.

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine. It’s nothing.” Eavan turned from him, angling her body to face the panoramic views of countryside and mountains. “Did I miss dinner?”

“Yes, that’s what clued me in.” He went to stand next to her, hands clenching with the need to heal a hurt that couldn’t be healed with his abilities. “Commander….Eavan…” He watched as she hunched in on herself, “Let me in. Let me help.”

She sagged, gripping the wall with desperate hands, and was caught by his arms. She allowed him to turn her, to hold her against him. A part of her brain tutted over her allowing a man that wasn’t Alistair the privilege of comforting her but her overwhelming need silenced the nagging. Clinging to him, she buried her face against his chest and wept, poured out her loneliness and pain into the tabard-covered chest. Violent, cleansing tears scalded Anders’ chest and he responded with soothing murmurs and gentle sweeps of his hands down her back. He knew the group saw him as nothing but a flirt, a philanderer, an unrepentant sinner who seemed to be comprised solely of hormones and bad jokes and sometimes that’s all Anders thought he was. But holding this woman in his arms, he wondered if he could be more. She made him want to be more.

The tears finally slowed, her sobs turning to soft hiccups and fretful noises as the realization that she was pressed tightly against Anders’ body filtered through her mind. She tried to disengage herself, her face flaming with embarrassment, but he ignored her attempts and sat them down, tugging her onto his lap. Gentle hands brushed back her mussed hair, fingers feathering over her cheeks to wipe away the tears. She couldn’t make eye-contact, utterly at a loss at what to do with herself. So she sat quietly while he continued his soft murmurs, continued his soothing touches.

“Better now?” his voice was muffled by her hair, his cheek pressed against the top of her head. Eavan nodded, trying to ignore how much she was enjoying the physical sensations of being comforted. “Want to talk about it?”

Her laugh was husky, “Not especially.” She tugged at his sleeve, fingers fidgeting with the stiff fabric. “I can’t seem to get past the past. Does that make sense? Everything that happened, I can’t seem to move past it. I close my eyes and see the horde, hear the archdemon…remember the death and destruction. I can still feel the pain from the killing blow. Feel the fear that I would end up dead or worse, left alive after Alistair died. And yes, the pain of leaving him in the Capital, of doing my duty while he does his.” She scrubbed her face against the Anders’ tabard. “The knowledge that no matter how much he loves me, we can never be a family because of what I am, because of how I was born. I shouldn’t…it shouldn’t matter.”

Anders wasn’t sure what to say to that. She was always so coolly accepting of her status, quick to joke that she would never want to be queen. But perhaps she would prefer that Alistair was simply a Warden with her. If he hadn’t taken the throne then perhaps it would have been the two of them at Vigil’s keep. Anders’ heart clenched at that thought. As selfish as it sounded, he was rather glad Alistair was back in Denerim as King. His brain screeched to a halt at that line of thinking, ugly realization dawning that he had just prodded those feelings best left alone. His arms tightened around Eavan as his heart thudded. It was terrifying to realize he wanted this woman as more than a one-night bedmate, more than just a pleasant dalliance, and even more than just a friend.

Her eyes met his as she leaned back against his arms, a question in them. They sat there like that, tension blossoming where before none had existed. Before, she had been the Commander, the woman who had saved him, and one who had helped him through the transition from Circle mage to Warden. Now, Anders wasn’t sure. The moment stretched out, wrapped around them, as awareness shivered. Now or never, he thought, as he watched her eyes darken with the awareness, the closeness.

It was tentative, a simple brush of lips over lips. He held her as if she would break, a relaxing of his arms so she could pull away. He gave her the out even as he reeled her in with the heartbreakingly gentle kiss. Just a brush of his lips, soft and feather-light, so delicate it could be ignored, could be reasoned away as a response to stress. The simple press deepened slowly as she opened against him, let him into her warmth with a pleasured sigh. Hands smoothed up her back, tangled in her hair, and she found herself becoming lost in him. Mouth slanting over hers, tongue delving to taste, stroke, tease, the kiss spiraled from sweet to intoxicating and left them both breathless, hands clutching and bodies straining.

She came back to herself gradually, aware of the sharp ache of want between her thighs and the bruising satisfaction from being well kissed. Anders’ eyes were on her face, nearly black with desire as his fingers carded through hair and teased over the very tips of her ears. The brushes of fingertips caused the desire to spiral tighter in her belly, caused her mind to shut down. He tugged at one ear tip and his sinfully soft lips curved into a pleased smile at her quiet inhale. The fingertips trailed down the curve of her ear and she swore it felt like he was dragging them down her entire body, pleasure burning through her veins.

It took every ounce of self-resolve to not simply allow herself to be taken right there on the battlements. Her mind warred with her heart, thoughts of Alistair butting up against the insistent need to be touched, to be held, to simply BE. Anders’ eyes stayed steady on her face, fingertips trailing over her jaw, her neck, her shoulders. He seemed to waiting on her to decide, not pressing her so much as unable to not touch. Fingers slid back over her ear and into her hair, massaging over her scalp with a firm stroke that made her eyes close and her neck arch. He still held back, touching with just fingertips, not holding her or pressing. It was his patience that broke her indecision. If he had forced it, if he had dragged her into another of those erotic kisses, she would have fled. But the gentle touches, the relaxed posture, the smiles – they all drew her in.

Flushed with arousal and anxiety, she moved closer to him, brushed against his chest as her lips pressed to his jaw. Butterfly kisses fluttered against his skin, teasing touches of lips and tongue that trailed back to his ear. She nuzzled there, unsure of how to proceed. She knew, deep down, that this was what she wanted. Part of her wondered at her desire for a man that wasn’t Alistair, wasn’t her lover, but part of her understood that she had been dancing around the attraction since she first saw the mage. Inhaling his scent, her tongue tracing patterns on the tender skin behind his ear, Eavan took an honest look at what she wanted and realized that this was it. She’d been making decisions for the good of Ferelden since Duncan had saved her in Denerim. Her one selfish act had pushed Alistair into Morrigan’s arms on the eve of the scariest battle she’d ever been a part of, an act done to put Alistair on the throne and keep her from death. Now, she realized as the honesty highlighted all the dark places of her soul, she wanted to be selfish again, only this time the selfishness would be for her and her alone. And, if she was totally being honest with herself, she could have avoided all of this by simply letting this mage walk away. She saw now that his conscription hadn’t been quite as benevolent and innocent as she had originally thought.

She came back to herself to find Anders gripping her tightly, her teasing licks causing his patience to wear thin. “Should I stop?” his voice whispered against her ear, his lips sliding over the sensitive skin and drawing a sound of longing from her. “I don’t think I’ll be able to if we keep this up.”

Shuddering with her decision, she realized he really would stop if she said so. He would set her aside, tell a joke, and leave her alone. The next time she saw him, he would make another joke and hide the awkwardness with chatter. He was still offering her that, a chance to pretend this had never happen. Before she could think any more about her decision, she was shaking her head. “No, don’t…no. I don’t want you to stop.”

Surprise and relief flashed across Anders’ face. For a moment, he simply hugged her to him. Then he was standing, setting her on her feet and gazing into her eyes with such want, such need that she worried she would simply burn into ash right there on the battlements. Hands clenching, he stepped back and straightened his clothes. “Should I, ah, just meet you in your room? I’d carry you there but I’m afraid I’ll either ravish you on the way or create unwanted drama with our companions.”

Swallowing and working to cool her desire, she smoothed a hand down her own disheveled clothing. “Yes,” she glanced up at him shyly, struggling with herself, “My rooms would be smart. In, um, ten minutes?”

His smile made her thighs quake and her stomach twist. “Make it fifteen and I’ll bring you some dinner. You’ll be hungry later.” How he managed to make that statement sound sensual, she wasn’t sure, but all she could do was nod her assent, mouth dry at the thought of why she would be so hungry. His smile widened when he noticed her response. A frustratingly chaste kiss and he was gone, leaving her with her desires and fears.

***

Fifteen minutes later found Anders discreetly knocking at Eavan’s door, dinner in hand, and now wearing comfortable robes. He felt some amusement at the situation, his past in the Circle making it ridiculously easy to both gather food for dinner and slip, unnoticed, to the Commander’s room. Not Commander, Eavan’s room, his brain helpfully corrected. His amusement dimmed when he realized he had almost said “lover’s room.” Swallowing down that thought for later, he knocked again and then slipped inside, securing the door behind him.

Eavan had taken the time to turn down the bed and change into one of the nightgowns she owned but never wore. Usually she slept in her clothing and face down on top of the covers. She rarely got to bed at anything resembling a decent hour, the habit translating into waking up with cricked necks and one boot dangling off a foot. It was so unusual to be in a nightgown that she felt terribly exposed. Anders found her with her arms wrapped tightly around herself and the dainty green confection, pacing her rooms with a look that spoke of nerves. He watched her a moment, setting the tray of food on her chair as her desk was full of papers, and then went to her. His hands slid up her arms, tugging her against his chest, and he smiled as she relaxed for him with nothing more than a sound of relief.

Anders knew he probably outstripped his Commander when it came to amorous experience. He wasn’t sure, but a big part of him wondered if Alistair hadn’t been her first. It was mildly worrisome to him if he was right, seeing as how the rumors said that the King had been rather…chaste…until Eavan came along. That meant her only experience in the bedchamber was with another virgin. Anders worried he’d scare her away with the sheer magnitude of his wants and desires. To not put too fine a point on it, he had been fantasizing about Eavan almost nightly – and no two fantasies ever matched. Looking down at the nervous but obviously aroused woman in his arms, Anders resolved to not pounce on her like, well, Pounce and instead take it slow. He would seduce her, yes, gently and with great skill. Right, gentle, he could do gentle.

Drawing her into a kiss, he maneuvered them across the room to the bed. His lips curved against hers as he sat down, tugging her down and onto his lap. It was, he thought, the perfect place for her. She was so small, so delicate compared to him. He remembered seeing the King that day after the darkspawn had been put down in the Keep, the day Eavan had conscripted him. He had been impressed with the sheer size and bulk of the King, the way the King wore the royal armor so effortlessly. He remembered the amusement felt when the King had bent down to press a kiss to his new Commander’s cheek, her pressing up on her tiptoes to meet the King half-way. At that time, her diminutive stature had been adorable. Now he wondered how the king made love to her without crushing her, her body so slight even he could lift her without much effort. Those thoughts slid away from him, though, when he gazed down at her and noticed, finally, the nightgown she wore.

Semi-sheer, it clung to her small breasts and offered tantalizing glimpses of hardened nipples and pale skin. The fabric draped down her slender frame, gathering in the V of her thighs before trailing down her short but shapely legs. His breath caught as he watched her nipples tighten. He tried to remind himself to be gentle, to go slow, but her breasts teased at him, taunted him, and his want roared in his head. Her gasp was loud in the room and it was followed by a low moan of pure desire. Those noises were going to drive him insane, he thought as his lips wrapped around one cloth-covered nipple. He felt her fingers tugging in his hair, the sharp pain only encouraging him to bite at her, to suckle and lave with his tongue until the cloth clung wetly to her breasts. He pulled back long enough to tug the nightgown off of her and his groan was heartfelt when he realized she had been completely naked under the garment.

Eavan clung desperately to Anders, eyes shut tight as he pulled her nightgown off her. She was so aroused, her body heavy with it, warm with need and want. His lips, dear Maker, those lips, her mind whined. She felt wanton sitting on his lap wearing nothing, her thighs pressed tightly together and her breasts aching. At the first glide of fingers up her back she twisted and pressed him into the mattress, straddling his hips, and slanting her lips over his in a wild, passionate kiss. Clinging to him, she nipped at his chin and neck, her fingers working to remove the robe he had changed into. Growing impatient, she simply tugged at the buttons, popping several in her haste. His laugh curled around her, his hands moving to help her open the robe to his navel. Desire-glazed eyes took in the blond hair, the smooth skin. She noted the differences even as she bent to press open mouthed kisses over his collarbone. He was slender compared to Alistair, lightly muscled instead of bulky. But there was strength here, muscles strong from wielding the staff he used. Tiny scars decorated the tops of his shoulders, thin lines that drew her mouth, small things that she cataloged for later, to ask about after. Her lips brushed over a nipple and his back arched, his fingers curling into her hair. She lapped, little flicks of her tongue that teased and tortured him, encouraged by the grip of his hands. He flexed under her, twisting and panting as she continued to kiss down his body. Tugging the robe out of her way, she uncovered him bit by bit, finding power in the glide of her fingers and press of her mouth, in the way she made him writhe and moan.

Sliding up higher on the bed, Anders wiggled out of his now-ripped robe, tossing it across the room. Eavan purred, pleased with herself when she reached his smalls. He was straining the cloth, his hips bucking when she exhaled warm breath over the hard bulge. “Evil woman,” he rasped, his hands fisting in the sheets. She chuckled and pressed a kiss to each thigh and then sat back on her heels. He watched her, eyes sliding down her body and a smile tipping up his lips. “I was going to seduce you. Tables got turned, hm?”

Her answering smile was teasing. Her breasts brushed over his hardness as she leaned over him to lick his stomach. He worked to stay still, not to force her, his body shuddering with each brush of tongue. Curling her fingers into his smalls, she worked them down his hips, moving to slide them off and toss them in the general direction of his robes. Her hand was warm and he thrust once at the feel of her fingers wrapping around his length. It took every ounce of will power to not thrust again when she wrapped her lips around the head and flicked with her tongue. Why had he thought she would be innocent? His mind gibbered uselessly as she slid her hot, wet mouth over his hardness. Slender fingers slid over his sack, cupping and massaging as her mouth drew on him. She moaned with him, the vibrations causing Anders to clench his teeth. With a gasping chuckle, he pulled her up his body and into a kiss. When the kiss broke, he grinned at her. “I don’t want to spend myself in your mouth. Well, I do. But not now, not for the first time around.”

Her response was lost when he rolled them, positioning himself between her thighs. The tip of his cock brushed over her mound and he could feel just how aroused she was. Ignoring the temptation to simple sheath himself in her, he followed her lead and kissed down her body. Every scar was kissed, every inhaled breath caused him to linger, to nip and suckle at her. By the time he had settled between her open thighs, she was quivering. He slid his thumbs up her, parting her lips for him, following with a long swipe of his tongue. She keened, arching and digging her heels into his back. Ignoring her pleas to go faster, to touch harder, he licked her with delicate swipes of tongue and fingertips. She was drenched, swollen with want and need. He tasted her, driving her need from arousal to passion. By the time he moved back up to nuzzle at her neck she was nearly mindless with want for him.

The slide of his hardness into her caused them both moan. He wrapped his arms around her, body flush with hers, and moved with long, slow thrusts. Eyes met, held, as the pleasure spiraled tighter and somehow hotter. He kept his thrusts measured, deep and stroking, watching as Eavan unraveled beneath him. Breath hitching, eyes widening, she spilled over the cliff of pleasure and he followed her.

Something in his chest shifted, unraveled at the look of bliss spreading across her face. Unguarded, relaxed, she held his gaze with hers as she settled against him. He struggled for a moment to breathe, his body still shivering from his climax. He felt her fingers smooth over his cheek, drawing him down and into a melting kiss. His heart lurched when he shifted, rolling to move his weight from her and she followed, snuggling against him with a sigh of happiness. He tightened his arms around her, chin pressed into her hair, and marveled at what he felt.

***

By the time the darkspawn terrorizing the Arling had been handled, Anders was firmly in love with her. After that first night, they had spent every night together wrapped in each other's arms. For the first time, Anders found himself fully accepted, fully loved, fully belonging. And as the time for Eavan to return to Denerim drew near, he found himself with the unenviable task of letting her go with no strings, no guilt, and no remorse. Because as much as he loved Eavan, as much as he brought her happiness, she loved Alistair too.

The night before she was to leave, he visited her for one last time. Entwined on the bed, bodies still glistening from their passion, she reached under her pillow and pulled out a small box. His eyebrow quirked up at the sight of the gift, a flush filling his cheeks. “I didn't realize we were exchanging gifts.”

Eavan's smile held a hint of sadness. “We aren't, per se, I just...I saw this and thought of you.”

Anders kept his eyes on her as he opened the box. When he looked down, his eyes widened. In the box, nestled amongst dried flower petals, sat a small silver pendant. Circular, smooth, it held a gryphon embossed on its shiny surface. He pulled it out, admiring the detail of the engraving. The pendant spun and saw the back was also engraved. In curling letters, the name Eavan was etched into the silver. His eyes met hers and he saw tears forming. “I don't...I have no words, love. This is perfect. I will never take it off. Never.” He fastened the chain around his neck, touching the pendant with tender fingers.

She smiled, her hand smoothing over his cheek. “To remember me, to remember that you are never alone. To remember you are loved.”

On impulse, he reached up and unfastened the gold hoop he wore. He looked at it for a moment and then pressed it into her hand. “Then take this, a part of me. For when you need to know that somebody out there loves you for you, not for your title or what you did, but for the woman you are.”

Eavan looked down at the earring and clenched her hand around it. “I know, Anders. But I love Alistair too. And my place is there with him and with my duties. I know, deep down, that out there is someone for you. Somebody who will see past all of the flirting and bad jokes, somebody who will recognize you for the man you are. I won't forget you. And perhaps, one day, our paths will cross again. We are both Wardens, after all.”

It was a moment Anders would always remember.


End file.
